


From Nowhere, A White Wind

by gogollescent



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s03e10 Amends, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 17:33:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gogollescent/pseuds/gogollescent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That one Christmas that everyone remembers; even Dawn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Nowhere, A White Wind

The Christmas Faith stays over is the Christmas it snows.

“Hey,” says Faith, when Dawn shakes her awake; “haven’t seen that since Boston.”

Dawn feels like an idiot. Of course for Faith this isn’t anything special. To Faith, this is just weather. Maybe, says a little voice in Dawn’s head, Faith even brought it with her, packed it into her duffel bag along with leather jackets and the magical ability to make Buffy break eye contact on command. Maybe it’s snowing for Faith.

But— “It’s  _freaky_ ,” Dawn tells her, like she can communicate a lifetime’s worth of sunlight in two words; like saying  _it’s freaky_ doesn’t sound exactly as stupid and juvenile as,  _it’s a miracle_.

Faith blinks, once, slowly, the smudging mascara at the corner of her eyes like a hollowness in bone. “Sure,” she says. “Absolutely it is. I mean, hell, you guys have palm trees. Can’t tell me that’s natural.” It’s not clear whether she’s talking about the snow or the palm trees. She sits up, the blanket slithering off her in a rustle of braid. She smiles. “Maybe today’s the day I kill a yeti.”

“I don’t think so,” says Dawn, turning. In the window the snow falls steadily. It could be one looping moment, with every particle of filled or open space replacing itself in turn.

“No?” says Faith, getting off the couch and coming to stand next to her. “Something did this.”

Dawn shrugs.

Faith looks around, slowly, her eyes tracking across the stretch of snowy street and then across the living room. She looks like she’s working through a problem; like she’s wondering what she can take without anyone noticing that it’s gone.

She looks at Dawn, and smiles.

“I trust your instincts,” she says. She sounds like she means it. Dawn wants to ask her why: hello, Hellmouth, it’s probably a  _zombie_ yeti— but she presses her lips together and breathes in cold through her nose.

Faith goes to open the door. She sticks her hand out into the clear air. “Any sign of Bigfoot?” Dawn asks. Faith glances at her and flashes a quick, soft smile, all teeth and fading lipstick and the movable shape of her face.

Dawn hears her mother upstairs; the soft sounds of her shedding sleep. Faith leaves the door open, and takes a step back, with her hand still held out in front of her like it’s just something someone attached to the bare end of her arm. On the radio, the weatherman says something about the sun not coming out all day. Faith turns her hand over, presents it palm-outward to the dark, and Dawn doesn’t believe him at all.


End file.
